


Deserving

by makeuswise



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Torture, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 08:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13163520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeuswise/pseuds/makeuswise
Summary: It was stupidity on his part, when he thinks on it. Needing a speedy escape from a heist was no excuse to cut through an enemy gang’s territory alone, yet he’d done it without a thought. In his defense, it’s hard to think with three dozen heavily armed, pissed off LSPD officers on your back. He couldn’t have anticipated how quickly it would go south, however, high profile enough that a scout had seen him two minutes into his excursion. The ensuing fight hadn’t been much of a fight at all, a sneaky blow to the back of the head leaving him off balance and nauseous enough to only throw  a handful of punches before he took another hit to the temple and went down hard.GTA AU where Adam gets kidnapped and tortured, then comforted by James and Elyse. Secret Santa gift to staranon95 on tumblr!





	Deserving

It was stupidity on his part, when he thinks on it. Needing a speedy escape from a heist was no excuse to cut through an enemy gang’s territory alone, yet he’d done it without a thought. In his defense, it’s hard to think with three dozen heavily armed, pissed off LSPD officers on your back. He couldn’t have anticipated how quickly it would go south, however, high profile enough that a scout had seen him two minutes into his excursion. The ensuing fight hadn’t been much of a fight at all, a sneaky blow to the back of the head leaving him off balance and nauseous enough to only throw  a handful of punches before he took another hit to the temple and went down hard.

There’s no telling how long he was out for, but it must have been significant if the ache in his ass from the metal chair is any indication. He can feel the dried blood on his lips from where the punk scout had gotten in a solid hit, but the taste of blood is absent, so it was definitely an extended time lapse. His head is still fuzzy, his stomach churning and eyes burning even in the low warehouse lighting. His arms are bound and his wrists feel raw from the shitty rope as he wiggles to see if he can loosen the knots. The door must be behind him, because he hears a creak and some grinding, followed by a shout he’s too exhausted to bother understanding. It only takes moments for him to realize what the guy must have been saying, as the door squeals again to herald two sets of footsteps.

It’s not the first time he’s been tortured, and it probably won’t be the last, with his luck. He’s already in agony when they bring out the bucket of water. His arms and torso are a battlefield of fresh new wounds and old scars, black t-shirt in pieces on the floor. The leader of the two interrogators takes a long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the bloody mess that he’s sure his forearm is underneath somewhere.

He straightens his suit and asks a question he must know Adam isn’t going to answer. When he gets no response - as if Adam could come up with a single coherent thought through the pain - the other man sits the water bucket in Adam’s lap and forces his head down until he’s taking a startled breath of water right into his lungs. His body tries to cough but that just gives him a mouthful of water that he tries desperately not to inhale. The man holds against his thrashing until his lungs are on fire and his vision goes spotty.

When he’s finally allowed air, he takes it in like a dying man, which, considering how much water he just coughed up, he kind of was. It’s a pretty rudimentary version of waterboarding, but definitely just as effective. More efficient. To the point.

They must be pretty well hidden if no one has come for him yet, far away or more likely in some dump his gang doesn’t know is an enemy safehouse. Smart, on this gang’s part, honestly. It’s bought them some time to actually get to the interrogation before they die. Which is unusual, because normally the guys don’t take more than a couple hours to bash their way into a hideout when one of their own is inside. But it’s totally fine, because they’re definitely coming, despite what this dickfuck in the suit is saying. His friends wouldn’t abandon him, right? Because they were friends, not just partners. Yeah, of course they’re coming. Lawrence and Bones are typing away at computers and the rest are suiting up, no, already suited up, because they are just waiting on a location, chomping at the bit to go save Adam because they care about him and love him and would protect him and are definitely going to save him. Yup, yes.

They take no notice of his burgeoning panic attack, shoving his head back under the surface of the water. This time he doesn’t hold, actually tears Adam’s head back out by the hair before dunking it again and again. It forces his breathing pattern to something abnormal, closer to hyperventilating that regular breathing. Ah, so they  _ had _ noticed his panic attack. Nothing better for panic than not knowing when your next breath will come!

He tries to remember all the techniques for keeping calm, but he’s probably concussed and his head is fuzzy and his thoughts all jumbled, everything too much for him to comprehend and this motherfucker is still dunking his head like he’s a damn piece of laundry in the olden days. It’s almost a relief when his head is held underwater for longer, his neck and upper back twinging with pain after the rough treatment. His eyes burn no matter how hard he squeezes them shut against the water, his lungs feel heavy, his heart is hammering in his chest and ears. He might die here, he realizes.

His head is released, not torn from the water as it had been before, which is how he knows something is up. They’re not just going to go good cop on him for no reason. A smile breaks over his face as he hears a shitty high pitched imitation of a woman’s voice from the door. He’d recognize James anywhere.

Things should have gone batshit after that, guns-a-blazing and blows flying, but Elyse comes down from the ceiling behind Suit Guy and puts one into the back of his skull, followed quickly by one between Other Guy’s eyes. How she got through the ceiling without being noticed, Adam will never know, and he doesn’t particularly care to. James is already undoing his bonds, cheap twine splitting easily against his knife. Once he frees Adam’s legs, Adam throws the damn bucket of water onto the ground and kicks it with a fervent hatred he hasn’t felt since his teenage years. Maybe he promptly falls over because his head is still swimming, but the point is made.

“Hey,” he says, looking between the two, speech slurred and throat raw, “Can we go home now?” James laughs and Elyse smiles, shaking her head fondly as Matt peeks through the door to see Adam flat on his ass on the floor.

“Yeah buddy,” James says, “We can go home now.”

——

The drive home is objectively short, but it feels like a thousand years to Adam, battered and exhausted. Nothing sounds better than falling face-first onto his bed and sleeping forever. But instead Peake is wrapping his arms in old cloth until they can get to gauze and proper medical supplies, silent like he knows Adam’s head is still buzzing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” is the only thing Matt says, murmured just after they walk into the penthouse and go their separate ways. Adam makes his way to the nearest bathroom, more than ready for a few painkillers to dull his headache and the agony of his arms and chest. James and Elyse come in to find him sorting through the pill bottles, trying to decide which will be most effective without thinning his blood too much. Some of the wounds are still bleeding sluggishly and he doesn’t want to make them worse.

“Hey buddy,” James greets him, grabbing a bottle of something Adam can’t quite remember but is  _ pretty _ sure is oxy. He gives Adam one and says he can have another only if he really needs it. It’s good to have someone care like that, enough to bother taking his addictive personality into account.

Elyse hands him a small bathroom cup of water to help down the pill, getting to work on unwrapping Adam’s arms and torso. It sticks in a few places and Adam can’t help but hiss as a few wounds rip back open. Some need stitches, and James has a suture kit at the ready. He begins and Elyse switches between helping him and gently showering Adam’s face in kisses.

The maybe-oxy kicks in a handful of minutes later and Adam’s already tired brain is even more desperate for sleep. He thinks of curling up in James and Elyse’s bed, one of them on either side, and sleeping until his body is sore from it. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. But James has decided to close up the majority of his injuries, so it’s taking forever and a day, suture kits being jammed into the little bathroom trash can one after another. They’re gonna need to order more at this rate. Usually, he would be grumpy about having to sit on the edge of the tub for so long, but he’s getting a kiss per stitch, so maybe it’s not so bad.

James finishes cleaning off the last wound and starts applying gauze, thank god. They may as well just wrap him up like a mummy at this point, chaining together so much gauze he’s practically wearing a really weird shirt. Could you imagine a gauze shirt? Sounds itchy and fragile. Hard to sew. He may be a little loopy, but he thinks it’s justified after literally everything that happened today.

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asks, leaning his forehead against James’s to look imploringly into those ocean-clear eyes. James laughs again like before, one of Adam’s favorite sounds, pressing their lips together slowly before agreeing. Elyse tosses the last suture pack into the trash, teaming up with James to help Adam up off his perch. They’re so gentle with him it’s practically unbearable. He can’t believe he ever doubted them.

The walk to their bedroom is short, Adam’s stumbling kept to a minimum with them under either shoulder. They lower him onto the bed first, James helping him pull up his legs so he can lay down right. He scoots over to his side of the bed, closing his eyes gratefully while he waits for them to get in too.

“Hey, move over,” Elyse says, nudging him carefully. He opens his eyes and tries not to show how delighted he is to be relegated to the middle; it’s the best place to be and he usually only gets it on bad days. Well, today has certainly been one hell of a bad day, he guesses. He moves over until he hits James, who wraps arms around him in a tight hug that might have hurt without painkillers in his system, while Elyse slides into bed and pulls the covers up over the three of them. Once James releases him, Elyse pulls him in, holding him just as tight.

“Sorry it took so long to find you,” she says, voice warbling from unshed tears. He just hugs her harder, placing a kiss on top of her head. When she finally lets him go, he kisses her soft and sweet until the tears subside.

“James, now you have to cry,” she says, to James’s laughter that may or may not be a little soggy, “I can’t be the only one.”

“Already there,” he sniffles, slinging an arm over a clear part of Adam’s torso, “But our baby boy is home.” Adam preens at the nickname, nuzzling his face into Elyse’s neck with a content sigh. This is where he belongs. Right here with the two of them, even sliced up and brain-bruised. Everything is tolerable, he can make it through anything, so long as he has this to come back to.

James kisses the nape of his neck and whispers more terms of endearment there, while Elyse talks reassurances against his lips and oops, he might be the one crying now. He wants to blame it on the concussion, wants to find some reason for it that isn’t just him being overwhelmed at their love, but he doesn’t have to with them. He doesn’t have to find excuses for his emotions anymore, not with James and Elyse. He’s allowed to cry and that just makes him cry more, because they’re so lovely and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve them.

He turns so that he can reach James’s face too, and cycles between giving each of them kisses until his tears stop and his eyes won’t stay open any longer. He drifts to sleep safe and warm, between the two he loves who love him back.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all comments/critiques/corrections are welcome! Check out my RPF blog at isitjustmeinhere on tumblr, as well as my fictional shipping blog shelterforananimal!


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